


Smile

by dainochild



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, An AU for another one of my fics jfc sorry, Broken Engagement, F/F, Family Fluff, Happy AU Fic, Harry Potter Crossover - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, ORAS spoilers are mentioned i guess, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dainochild/pseuds/dainochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this AU fic of another fic of mine, Steven Stone and Alder adopt Red Potter after the tragic death of his parents. Together, they try to build a good home life for their godson, while coping with the loss of their best friend and betrayal. Not that that's as hard as Steven expects with an adorable godson around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> A note on this fic in regards to spoilers for the main fic: This story contains one minor one that I’ve already mentioned in the pairing section, another minor spoiler in terms of a character’s existence, but other than that, none of the information is new (or if it is, it’s further details clarifying things that were already established). However, this fic does draw conclusions from that information that haven’t been made in the main fic yet. It won’t tell you how that information impacts on the plot of the main fic because, well… the circumstances are very different in this Happy AU. So basically: don’t worry about spoilers because even if it’s something you didn’t know, it’s not going to impact the main fic in the same way.

Steven Stone heard about the death of his best friend from a very ecstatic stranger who wouldn’t stop focusing on the ‘Giovanni is dead’ aspect. It took him nearly twenty minutes to get them to clarify that yes, Cynthia and Crimson were dead, but Red was alive. An hour later, he heard about the ‘Wallace betrayed them that’s how Giovanni found them’ aspect from Lance. Steven had always prided himself on his intuition, but in that moment, he realised his hunch that Wallace was his soul mate was completely, irrefutably incorrect.

So as he always did in times of great stress, Steven headed for the nearest cave. It was a beautiful cavern, carved by millennia of waves, resulting in a damp environment that created some of the smoothest stones Steven had ever seen outside of Hoenn. Dark blue salt water still fed into the cave, forming deep lakes, and the environment continued to adapt. Steven knew better than anybody that eternity was an illusion formed through a miscomprehension of the natural world’s constant (but slow) changes. Change was unavoidable. And yet he hadn’t ever considered that the dynamics of his friendships could change into something he wouldn’t recognise. It had never occurred to him that perhaps, in a war, one of them would do despicable things. It had never crossed his mind that Wallace would do anything to hurt anyone, let alone hand Cynthia, Crimson and Red over to Team Rocket.

For once, stones only made Steven feel worse. Yet he stayed with them. It was better than facing a world he couldn’t recognise any more.

Alder found him around midnight. His face was grim, his shoulders slumped, his feet dragging. Even his stupid hair seemed to droop. Still, as he sat next to Steven, Alder gave a slight smile.

“Glad I found you,” he said.

“I hadn’t expected to be found for a while,” Steven replied.

“It wasn’t that hard. Even if it had been, so what? I needed to see you, so I found you.”

“I didn’t know,” Steven said quickly. “I’ve barely seen him since last Christmas. He didn’t seem weird. He didn’t… I didn’t think…”

“That’s not why I needed to see you,” Alder said. His hands clenched into fists. “I went after Wallace. I caught him. They stopped me from killing him. But he’d killed Cynthia and Crimson. He killed _twelve_ muggles, Stevie, and then he said he didn’t have any other choice.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steven said. “That’s — that’s bullshit.”

“I would’ve said that 24 hours ago if you’d told me I’d try to kill Wall,” Alder breathed.

“So would have I,” Steven replied. “Yet I wish you’d done it. I wish I’d done it.”

Alder’s fists tightened. “Oak took Red. I pulled him out of the rubble, he was bawling, of course he was bawling, he’s lost _everything_ , even a baby’s gotta understand that, and I really wanted to kill Wallace but more than that I just wanted to look after Red, but then fucking _Brock_ turns up and take him away on Oak’s orders, so what’s left for me to do except go after Wallace?”

When Cynthia told them she was pregnant (glowing all the while, so damn happy and proud about it even with a war going on), they’d cast lots to decide who’d be the godfather. Alder won. Wallace came second. Steven lost.

“That means Wall gets to be godfather of my next child,” Cynthia had said. “Stevie, you’ll get the third.”

She’d wanted that many children, and Steven had never spent very long entertaining the thought that she wouldn’t have more children. Or even that she would die before Red was two. He’d known about Giovanni’s threat, but he’d trusted his friends and Oak so wholeheartedly that it hadn’t felt like a threat at all.

“We should go talk to Oak,” Steven said. “They can’t keep Red.”

They headed to Pallet, but Oak couldn’t talk to them properly until the next day. He was busy with the Minister for Magic, Elm. At least he met with them briefly enough to explain, “I’m personally watching Red because I’m certain Team Rocket will attack him for revenge.”

Oak had the decency to let them look after Red while he was in meetings. The moment he placed Red gently in Alder’s arms, Alder started to cry. Steven quickly steadied his arms just in cast, but Alder managed to cry softly enough that Red slept through it.

“I can’t believe they’re dead,” Alder said repeatedly.

Steven found it easier to accept upon seeing Red. Cynthia wouldn’t leave her precious only child alone if she was alive as he’d secretly been hoping.

Finally, as the sun rose, Elm left. Oak emerged from his office, looked at Red sleeping peacefully on Alder’s enormous forearms, and said, “I currently believe Giovanni is truly dead.”

“Good,” Alder said.

“That doesn’t mean Red is safe yet,” Oak continued. “Already five members of Team Rocket have been arrested for attacking children they believed to be him.”

“We can keep him safe,” Alder insisted. “Right, Stevie?”

“That’s right.”

“There are other ways to protect him,” Oak said. “Cynthia died to protect him. For whatever reason, Giovanni gave her the opportunity to save herself, and she of course refused. Her love for Red is what protected him from Giovanni’s Killing Curse. If he were to live with someone of Cynthia’s blood, that protection would remain in tact. Someone such as Cynthia’s sister.”

Steven tried to think of a tactful way to explain to Professor Samuel Oak, genius mastermind, that Delia was kind of a jealous bitch who hadn’t spoken to Cynthia since marrying that Vernon Ketchum asshole.

“No way,” Alder said before Steven could. “I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“You’re not going to let Red be protected by love?” Oak asked dryly.

“Cynthia’s sister and brother-in-law wouldn’t love him,” Alder said. “But I love him. I’ve loved him since before he was born. And I know Stevie feels the same.”

“I do,” Steven agreed. “And for that matter, we both loved Cynthia far more than Delia ever did.”

Alder smiled at him.

Oak frowned. “I was under the impression Delia was an extremely pleasant and loving person who was close to her sister.”

“Yeah, before Cynthia got into Hogwarts and Delia overcompensated with the ‘normal’ thing,” Alder snorted. “She didn’t even reply to Cynthia’s letter about being pregnant. Or the one about Red being born.”

“That’s certainly not an ideal situation,” Oak said. “But perhaps there’s a loophole, a way to ensure Red remains magically protected without living with the Ketchums…”

“And if there isn’t?” Alder demanded.

“Then I would suggest you both look in to home security magic,” Oak replied, before excusing himself to research.

“We get to keep him,” Alder breathed. “Stevie, we get to keep him!”

Steven wondered when it had gone from Alder-the-godfather honouring Cynthia and Crimson’s wishes to them both raising Red together but he wasn’t about to complain.

Oak concluded that so long as Red had the _potential_ to call the Ketchum house home and visited there at least once a year to renew that potential, he would be magically protected.

“Then we should move to Pallet Town,” Steven concluded. “Hardly a difficult task with my father’s credit card.”

“I love that bit of plastic,” Alder sighed.

“You can, of course, stay here while you are organising things,” Oak said. “I have to go tend to some… personal issues.”

Steven called his father and briefly explained the situation. As always, Joseph Stone was willing and eager to throw money at whatever problems his only son faced.

“Would you like me to organise a house for you?” Dad offered.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Steven said. He was far too tired in every way to be as polite as usual with his father.

“You’re never any trouble, son.”

Except the whole werewolf thing.

Within three hours, Dad had secured a house down the street from the Ketchum’s, and was asking about decorating schemes.

“I don’t think it matters,” Steven said in the same moment Alder called, “Chrome! That’s basically steel, right?”

“No,” Steven sighed.

His father laughed merrily. Dad had always enjoyed Alder.

It was a fairly large house, with five bedrooms, two lounge rooms, and three bathrooms spread across two storeys. The kitchen was next to one of the lounge rooms, without a wall between them, strangely. Alder found the cupboard under the stairs a much more fascinating oddity.

“What would you even put there?” he chuckled.

“I have no idea,” Steven said. “Maybe brooms.”

Over the next year, it ended up being filled with memories of Wallace that Steven didn’t know how to handle and Alder was too angry and sad about all at once. Every gift Wallace had ever given them (from stupid attempts to make them more ‘stylish’ to more heartfelt representations of their so-called friendships), every photograph they’d taken with him, every letter — everything. Steven even put the stones Wallace had given him in there and, in the furthest corner, the engagement ring. He made sure to stack the boxes on top of that.

“It’s not a denial thing,” Alder insisted. “We can’t have Red grow up surrounded by crap from Wallace, right?”

“It’s a denial thing,” Steven replied. “But denial is okay sometimes. Like when you’ve got a baby to look after.”

All things said and done, Red wasn’t too difficult to take care of. He slept a lot, wasn’t fussy about food, and didn’t cry much. Of course, Steven was widely deemed ‘unemployable’ and Alder wasn’t much better, so they didn’t work. The family trust funds between them were more than enough to live off. All they ever did was dote on Red. When he was awake, one or both of them would attend to his every need immediately. When he was asleep, they read parenting books, both muggle and magical. The books didn’t offer much they hadn’t picked up from Cynthia and Crimson; looking after a baby was simple, if time consuming. But they had nothing but time.

The biggest problem was, as usual, Steven’s werewolf thing.

At the end of the first moon cycle they all lived together, Steven had left for the usual secure location in his dad’s company’s basement. Over the years, they’d worked together with Oak to create an environment that wouldn’t be dangerous to muggles, but wouldn’t be too awful for Steven either. It was, essentially, an indoor forest contained by steel walls with Wolfbane Potion supplies. Oak would procure the potion; Dad would pay for its ingredients, brewing and a small bonus for whichever Potions Master Oak got to make it. Oak would say it was quite an over-the-top procedure, but Steven didn’t think he could be too careful. Especially now he was living with a baby and Red.

Alder protested Steven leaving, but Alder had always been odd about Steven’s company. Sometimes he would demand it, complete with tantrums if he didn’t get it. Other times he would spend days, weeks, even months barely speaking to Steven. Alder was, quite simply, very prone to tunnel vision but also easily distract. He would obsess over one thing for a while before suddenly switching his gaze to something else. Yet, none of his other friends had ever received the same treatment from Alder. Regardless, Steven couldn’t complain of neglect — after all, Alder had led the others to become pokémagi for him.

What really made the werewolf thing complicated was Red’s reaction.

Steven returned when the moon was starting the waning gibbous phase, still feeling queasy, but he’d promised. He’d expected to find Alder calm, Red more so. Instead, he opened the door to Alder lying on the floor groaning while Red sat in the playpen with his reuniclus. Alder glanced up at him with a pathetic whine of, “Stevie. Don’t ever leave again.”

Red looked over at him. He stumbled to his feet, walked to the corner of the playpen closest to the door, and held reached for Steven. Steven picked him up. Red immediately started gurgling happily and touching his face in that odd, nonsensical way infants did.

“He wouldn’t stop crying,” Alder complained. “Not until I showed him the picture of you I keep in my wallet and then he drooled all over it and it’s ruined now.”

“You keep a picture of me in your wallet?”

Alder groaned loudly, curling up so Steven couldn’t see his face.

It was probably a picture of all of them together, and Alder probably didn’t want to confront Steven with memories of Wallace.

“He loves you best,” Alder agonised. “I’m meant to be the godfather but he loves you best.”

“He’s one. I doubt he has much preference beyond as much attention as he can get.”

Alder wouldn’t listen to reason, though. “You can’t do this to me every month, Stevie.”

“I’m sure it was a one-off thing.”

It was not.

The next four moon cycles went much the same. Steven would return to Alder groaning from sleep deprivation and Red excitedly clinging to him. As Red became better at walking, he became better at clinging to Steven, too. And although Red would cling to Alder just as much (if not more) during every other part of the month, Alder still took it personally _and_ the wrong way.

“I’m a failure of a godfather,” he’d often lament.

“You haven’t failed once,” Steven insisted.

But the point remained, regardless of Alder’s melodrama, that Red would cry when Steven left for up to a week every month. Steven didn’t want to make Red cry. Wasn’t Red’s life already too much of a tragedy? He was aware that he and Alder would be at great risk of spoiling Red too much, but how was it spoiling a child to give them the stability of his presence? Especially when said child had already lost his parents.

“If I do stay here during the full moon, I’ll have to stay far away from Red at night, you realise,” Steven told Alder tentatively.

“Doesn’t Wolfsbane make you harmless, though?”

“Allegedly. I don’t really want to risk trying it on Cynthia’s son.”

Alder didn’t argue with that, but he had always held onto the belief that somehow the power of friendship would overcome lycanthropy.

Oddly enough, Alder brought Oak in on the issue, and Oak agreed that it would be more ideal for Steven to stay in Pallet for the full moon.

“If you take the usual precautions, I don’t see any reason not to,” Oak said. “Red wouldn’t be at risk, but if you leave every month, he would be at risk of mistrusting you.”

“He’s one,” Steven said.

“Yes, which means he’s learning at an incredibly fast rate,” Oak replied. “Pay attention to how he reacts to things and you’ll be able to tell what he’s learning.”

Oak had raised children before, as much as a terrifying failure Archer was, so he probably had a point.

They unlocked the basement for the first time and set it up much like the one at Dad’s. Alder complained the entire time.

“You don’t need to hide away,” he said. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. Especially around me. And Red.”

“It’s for safety,” Steven clarified. “It’s not hiding.”

“I don’t like the idea of you locked up down here alone.”

“Well, this isn’t school. You can’t transform into an absol and keep me company. Red will need you.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Alder grumbled.

“You don’t have to like looking after your godson?”

“No!” Alder cried. “No, I mean, I don’t have to like _anything_ , but I do like that, what I mean is, I don’t have to like being away from you! Actually, I hate it, I always have!”

“It’s only at night,” Steven replied.

“Yeah, for three to five days. In a row.”

“We don’t usually spend nights together.”

“We could!”

Steven rolled his eyes. “Your jokes have gotten worse.”

Alder muttered something Steven didn’t quite catch, but Steven doubted it mattered. If it did, Alder would’ve repeated it.

They transfigured the walls to steel, the ground to dirt, they conjured plants, and as Steven would later discover, Alder buried pebbles in the dirt. It was a nice gesture, even if Alder clearly didn’t understand the appeal of geology. Oddly, Alder acted as though they were a fair compensation for his company.

“I like you far more than I like stones, Aldie,” Steven told him.

Alder actually teared up. “Stevie…! I love you, Stevie!”

Sometimes Alder was more of an attention-seeking brat than the baby.

For all his anxieties about it, Steven’s first full moon in the house went without a hitch. He drank his potion at moonrise, then again at sunset. Transformation was unpredictable at the best of times; some nights, it wouldn’t happen unless Steven saw the moon or was touched by its light. Others, it would happen as soon as it was both dark and the moon was in the sky. Little was known about why this was the case. Cynthia’s theory was that it wasn’t only the moon that effected transformation, but other planets too. They’d never managed to isolate a pattern before Cynthia had to go into hiding. What was certain was that when the sun rose the next day, Steven would return to normal. He would feel weak, clammy, with surges of pain jolting constantly through his every muscle, but he would return to normal. If he managed to find the energy, he would be able to go about daily life as per usual.

Steven rarely found the energy to do so. Usually, he would lie there alone and in pain until the next night’s transformation, and repeat the same each day of the cycle. It had happened in Rustboro with his father, in Mossdeep and Sootopolis with Wallace, and at Hogwarts when his friends had to go to avoid being caught. The clear assumption was that Steven knew best when it came to his transformations, though Steven didn’t know why that assumption was made; he was a muggle-born who only comprehended the basics of the magical world after seven years of schooling. And what he understood about werewolves was that he was lucky to have any support at all — forget demanding more.

Steven’s system was not the best for him personally, but it was the best for protecting others. And so it was the best it could be.

When he woke up after that first night, safe, with no signs of hurting anyone or damaging anything, Steven was relieved. When he realised he was in his own house, with Alder there ready with pain medication (“The muggle kind, I know our kind ruins the Wolfsbane.”) in one hand and clothes in the other, Steven was moved. When Alder helped him to the living room (okay, pretty much carried), sat him down, and placed Red in his lap before going to make breakfast, Steven thought two things: first, that he’d been stupidly overprotective in ways Red clearly didn’t need, and second, that living with Alder was becoming the best thing that had happened to him. (Excepting the tragic circumstances leading to it, of course.)

It was a life both simple and relaxing that Steven had never imagined possible. It wasn’t a life he’d particularly wanted, either — children and werewolves were not an ideal combination to begin with, and Steven had always been prone to getting caught up in his own hobbies to the point of obsession. But with Red around, Steven couldn’t explore caves on a whim without notice, or travel, or trains his pokémon in highly dangerous locations. Steven had thought he would find this oppressing and frustrating, but he didn’t.

“Duh, you’ve always put other people first,” Alder told him. “It’s just more of the same but in a better way, cos Red actually needs you to do that.”

He was right, of course.

Steven had never thought Alder paid him that level of attention, but as he discovered almost daily, Alder had filed every detail of their ten year friendship away in his brain, then followed it up with detailed mental reports of his findings. Alder just _knew_ how Steven took his coffee, his preferred stationary brands, his top-fifty list of stones, the odd places Steven would set his wand and/or keys then forget about them. It was equal parts flattering and unnerving.

“How do you remember these things?” Steven asked after Alder perfectly recalled his preferred type of organic black tea.

“I dunno.” Alder scratched the back of his head self-consciously. “I love you, so…”

Over the past four years, Alder had said he loved Steven constantly, yet that was the first time it occurred to Steven that maybe Alder didn’t mean it in a strictly platonic sense.

It wasn’t that Steven had never considered the _potential_ of dating Alder so much as he’d never considered it potentially amounting to much. Alder was attractive at all times and kind when he wanted to be, but he was brash and had no filter. Had their lives gone differently, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine Alder in eleven years advising Red to date Hufflepuff girls because they’re ‘easy’. Steven had always thought he and Alder were very different people with very different values, and of course that made sense, Alder was a pureblood from Unova and he, Steven, was a muggle-born werewolf from Hoenn. They most likely never would have been close friends without Cynthia and Wallace to link Steven’s nerd hobbies and Alder’s jock ones.

But Steven had thought he and Wallace were similar people with similar values (in spite of Wallace’s blood status), and look at what Wallace had become.

After that disaster, Steven didn’t feel ready to let anyone have his heart again. So he said nothing to spare them both.

Funnily enough, suspecting Alder’s feelings didn’t change anything about their dynamic. It was easy to get carried away with the pattern of looking after Red, and each other, with nothing to distract them except the occasional visit from Oak and to Delia. Delia was more accommodating than either of them expected, so long as her husband was out. Her son (Ash) seemed to like Red. Red liked Ash’s giant snorlax pillow a lot.

“Can I get him a snorlax?” Alder sighed.

“Maybe when he’s eleven.”

But those were rare moments that forced them to acknowledge the world beyond their newly constructed family. Even time barely registered beyond moon cycles, meal times and day or night. It was all, Red getting bigger, Red walking, Red’s babbling becoming more and more like recognisable speech, Red responding to them more and more until they were having conversations with him, how cute Red was, how sweet Red was, how funny Red was, how naturally great with their pokémon Red was (“It’s almost like he understands them,” Steven said, but Alder told him that was ridiculous), until suddenly Red was five and during a visit to Delia’s she asked them if he was going to start school soon.

“Ash is starting in the spring,” she said. “Of course, it’s probably different for… your sort.”

“It depends,” Steven said, politely, while Alder ground his teeth.

Later, when they were alone, Alder said, “We should just home-school him.”

“I think it would be good for Red to socialise,” Steven replied.

“He already socialises with Ash!”

“Barely,” Steven sighed. “Perhaps if we sent him to Hahajo, with her kids, or Norman —”

“All the way to _Johto_ every day?”

Alder had a much better point there.

“It wouldn’t hurt him to go to the local muggle school,” Steven said thoughtfully. “He’s probably still too young to be exposed to how famous he is, isn’t he?”

“He knows he’s famous,” Alder grumbled. “I told him. You told him. A lot.”

“That doesn’t mean he understands it,” Steven insisted. “ _You_ didn’t grow up famous. I did.”

“You were kind of a snobby brat,” Alder recalled. “And pretentious. Soooo pretentious. Of course, not as bad as Wal—”

He froze, falling completely silent before he finished saying Wallace’s name. He looked angry at himself.

“Precisely,” Steven said. “The local primary school isn’t far, and Ash would be there.”

“But what if he starts doing magic?” Alder worried. “I mean. He’s got to be powerful, between Cynthia and Crimson as parents and destroying Giovanni once-and-for-all when he was fifteen months old…”

“I imagine it would be no different to any other child accidentally using magic around muggles,” Steven said.

Alder frowned. “What do muggles even learn at school?”

“Science. Maths. Useful stuff.”

“How’m I meant to be the clever godfather helping his godson with his homework if I don’t even know it?”

“You could learn it too,” Steven suggested. “Stay one lesson ahead of Red.”

Alder wasn’t convinced. Likewise, Steven wasn’t convinced being tutored with Weasley kids would be best for Red either. He’d met Hahajo’s son Diamond and daughter White. Both were very boisterous and friendly, quite like Ash, and Red hadn’t exactly taken to Ash. Red very loudly hated loud noises, and seemed to have decided Ash was the ultimate loud noise. White was a lot louder than Ash.

As they couldn’t reach an agreement, they asked Red.

“Don’t wanna go to school,” Red replied. “Wanna stay here.”

“Don’t you want to meet other people your age?” Steven asked.

Red shook his head.

“Bleak,” Alder murmured quietly. Louder and more clearly, he asked, “You like Ash though, don’t you, buddy?”

Red considered this. “I like Ash’s toys.”

Alder covered his mouth to keep from laughing.

“You’ll have to go to school somewhere,” Steven told him.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Neither did I, but school’s fun,” Steven said. “You’ll have fun.”

Red scowled. “Home’s fun.”

The closest to a decision they got was Red shouting “I don’t care! I hate you!” then crying about them trying to get rid of him.

“But we love you so much,” Alder soothed. “Why would we ever wanna get rid of you, huh?”

Red clung to him and cried.

Steven was quite convinced that Red was crying because he almost always got his way after a tantrum, but Alder always tried to talk Red through tantrums. It usually worked. Red wasn’t a very good liar; he never really made anything up.

“We’re not trying to get rid of you,” Alder promised. “School’s just for you to learn things. You get to come home after, and we’ll be home waiting for you after school every day.”

“Promise?” Red sniffled.

“Promise.”

Watching them, Steven felt an overwhelming surge of affection for Alder. He’d always been overwhelmingly affectionate for Red, from the moment he was born. But Alder… Alder was starting to make him feel warm to his very core. Sometimes he would only think of Alder and everything would feel brighter.

It was, at times, quite alarming. Particularly when he wondered how warm Alder’s kisses would make him feel.

They decided to take the problem of Red’s schooling to Professor Oak. When they arrived at his lab, however, they found Oak was having enough problems of his own, in the form of an auburn haired child Red’s age who kept running through the lab with a swarm of squirtle, knocking everything over.

“What’s with the kid?” Alder asked hesitantly.

“My grandson,” Oak wearily explained. “I finally gained the legal approval necessary to be his guardian, but…” He winced, then sighed, as his grandson and the squirtle knocked over a shelf. He turned to them and called, “Green! Not inside!”

The child replied in French. Very rude French, judging from Alder’s laughter.

“Why does he speak French?” Alder asked.

“Before he was arrested, Archer had an acquaintance in France made Green’s guardian,” Oak explained. “An old student of mine, and a muggle, though Archer doesn’t know that… it took a long time for us to navigate the legal proceedings with Archer in Azkaban.”

“Doesn’t he speak Japanese?” Steven asked. “Or English?”

“Oh, he does,” Oak said grimly. “He simply won’t.”

“Does Daisy —” Alder started to ask. He didn’t manage to finish the question before Oak replied:

“Daisy is at that age all teenagers experience where they find everything pointless and irritating.”

“Ah,” Alder said knowingly. “Fifteen.”

“Is Red not with you?” Oak asked.

“He’s with his cousin and aunt,” Steven replied. “He doesn’t want to go to school, or meet other kids, so we’re hoping they’ll make it sound more appealing.”

Oak frowned. “He still isn’t very social, then?”

“No, but he’s sweet,” Steven insisted.

“Perhaps he and Green will get along,” Oak said. “I think they would be good for each other.”

“We were thinking about asking Hahajo to tutor Red with her children,” Alder said.

“Yes, that, or sending him to the local muggle primary school,” Steven added.

“It’s your decision, but I think it may be too soon to expose Red to how famous he is,” Oak said. “Especially if he’s as introverted as he sounds.”

“Where will you be sending Green?” Alder asked, covering up his irritation at being wrong with politeness.

“Oh, Pallet Primary,” Oak said. “Green would benefit from avoiding the magical community for a while longer, too.”

“Does he have an opinion of Red?” Steven asked.

Oak chuckled. “Yes, but I doubt you’d like to hear it.”

That was as much as they got out of him.

Alder relented and accepted that a muggle school wouldn’t be too bad. It helped that Ash had told Red they would learn about pokémon, and Red wouldn’t stop talking excitedly about what kind of pokémon his teachers would have.

“When do I get pokémon?” Red asked.

“When you’re a bit older,” Steven replied. “When you’re eleven.”

“But that’s when I go to Mama’s school,” Red protested.

“You can take pokémon with you,” Steven said. “I did.”

“Really?” Red gasped. “What’d you take?”

“My metagross, back when it was a beldum,” Steven replied.

“Yeah, he used to fawn over it all the time,” Alder said. “He’d feed it at the table, even after it evolved.”

Of course, before allowing Red to go, Steven secretly made sure his teacher would have a pokémon. It felt a small way to spoil him, especially since she’d proudly showed off her oddish, and it was such a comfort when they dropped Red off to know his excitement wouldn’t be for nothing.

After Red ran over to ask to see his teacher’s pokémon, Alder elbowed Steven and whispered in his ear, “Look at Green.”

Steven casually glanced over at Green, who was clinging tightly to Oak’s hand while staring silently at Red with wide eyes and a hanging jaw.

“I think he recognises him,” Steven murmured.

Alder laughed.

The walk back home was something of a novelty purely because they didn’t have to watch their language. Of course, after four years of doing so, the taboo of big words and swear words remained fixed practice. They also didn’t need to dawdle for Red’s short legs’ sake, but did so anyway. They didn’t need to stop for any pokémon they encountered, but did so anyway. Habits were hard to break, and easy to laugh off. But when they arrived home and fell silent, everything felt unpleasant. Their lives had revolved around Red for four years, every moment had been about Red for four years, and now they were alone with nothing to do.

“I’m gonna… um… go… train my pokémon a bit,” Alder decided after an hour of them both wandering aimlessly around the house.

“That’s a good idea,” Steven said. But he let Alder go alone. He already felt lost and confused without Red. He didn’t need to establish a co-dependence on Alder in Red’s absence.

With Red around, it was not only easy to avoid thinking about Wallace’s betrayal, but it was for the best. Yet somehow, while fixating on making Red happy, Steven had managed to avoid mourning. He had certainly avoided touching the festering wound Wallace had left on his heart. Without Red’s happiness to focus on, Steven found himself incredibly pissed off. Cynthia should have been the one agonising over pre-Hogwarts education. Cynthia should have been the one feeling lost after dropping her son off at school for the first time. Cynthia should have been anything but dead.

And she would have been, if only Wallace had kept his mouth shut.

Steven still had no idea why Wallace had betrayed them. He also didn’t know what his failure to notice Wallace’s change in allegiance said about him as a boyfriend, beyond agreeing with the small voice in the back of his mind that said ‘ _Alder deserves better than you_.’

It was true, after all. Alder deserved better than a werewolf who wouldn’t notice the small things or the important. But Steven didn’t care very much about that, because regardless of what Alder deserved, he certainly appeared to want Steven. And Steven certainly had no intention of repeating his mistakes.

Red returned from his first day bursting with stories about Dotty the oddish, mostly about what she ‘told’ him. By this point, Steven was quite sure Red could speak to pokémon, but Alder was sure Red was imagining it. It was hard to get Red to talk about anything but the oddish, not that Steven or Alder particularly minded. Red’s excitement about Dotty the oddish remained a constant, while he’d alternate between liking Ash and Green and disliking them. Some days he liked Ash but disliked Green, and others it was the reverse. Steven worried. Alder told him to just let it be.

“Weren’t you fickle about friends when you were that age?” Alder asked.

Steven couldn’t say yes, as he hadn’t had any friends. So he would simply trust Alder’s judgement. Alder hadn’t failed him yet.

True to Steven’s suggestion, Alder tried learning the same things Red was. There wasn’t much to it yet, but Alder found it amusing.

“It’s soooo important, Stevie,” Alder would tease. “How’d I ever function without doing maths every day?”

“Shut up,” Steven replied.

He thought a lot about shutting Alder up by kissing him.

Red didn’t become particularly interested in schoolwork, to Steven’s disappointment. Cynthia would surely be equally as disappointed. He was having fun, though, and he was also five, so Steven couldn’t stay disappointed for long. Especially when Red was interested in learning everything he could about pokémon. It was no wonder then that he ended up spending so much time at Oak’s lab with Green.

“Why did we want him to have a friend again?” Alder whined. “Stevie, I miss him!”

Steven did too, but it was hard to admit it wasn’t worth it after Red actually brought Green _and_ Ash to their house and said, “Aldie, Stevie, Green’s my best friend and Ash’s my best cousin, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Alder said. “No complaints, right Stevie?”

“That’s right,” Steven said.

But he _did_ have complaints. They were stupid complaints, but they ate away at him, and all amounted to Steven not knowing what to think about Wallace, and ergo, what to think about his growing feelings for Alder.

It became very painfully apparent to Steven that he needed closure with Wallace.

Raising the topic of even potentially talking to Wallace was not easy. Alder had come a long way from his reckless and violent teen years (especially in terms of not punching Volkner in the face), but Steven knew there wasn’t a mood good enough in the world to ease that blow. It didn’t help that Steven didn’t _want_ to risk having any negative impact on Alder’s moods — when he was in a good mood, Steven wouldn’t raise the topic to avoid ruining it; when he was in a bad mood, Steven wouldn’t raise the topic to avoid making it worse.

But he knew he had to.

So he waited until Red was in bed (and actually sleep) before awkwardly approaching Alder and saying, “I’ve been thinking of going to see Wallace.”

Alder immediately froze and dropped the PokéPuff he’d been feeding Volcarona. “Why… why would you do that.”

He looked incredibly angry.

“Aldie, I was going to _marry_ him,” Steven reminded him, not to be cruel, but because it _did_ matter. “I have to know why he did it so I know why I failed to notice it.”

“Why would that be your responsibility?” Alder demanded. “You _always_ do this, you always find a way to make it your fault, but it’s _not_ , Stevie! Sometimes people just go bad!”

“I need to do it,” Steven insisted. He didn’t expect Alder to understand.

Alder groaned. “Fine, then do it, but… but dammit, you’d better not tell Red!”

“I’m not an idiot,” Steven spat.

“Sometimes, Stevie, you totally are.” Alder picked up the PokéPuff and held it out to Volcarona. Volcarona set it on fire. “Okay, okay, fine, it’s dirty, I’ll get a new one!”

It was probably the closest to blessing Steven would get. It irritated him how much he wanted Alder to support him, even if his motivations were partially masochistic.

From the Ministry of Magic building, there was an exclusive direct Floo to Azkaban. Paperwork in order to take said exclusive direct Floo needed to be in 24 hours in advance. Steven, familiar with the ways in which the Ministry would treat him, made multiple copies of his paperwork to carry with him on the day he went. He needed to show it multiple times to almost the entire staff even though the pureblood, silver-haired Malfoy from England in front of him didn’t need to do more than say his pretentious name. It felt like a foolish amount of effort to go to in order to visit a frigid island in the middle of the ocean, swarming with Dementors, and just for Wallace, too.

Two Dementors and one glum Ministry official met Steven and led him through the winding stone towers to a cell. It was near the top of the tallest tower, with metal bars that had iced over from the constant swooping of Dementors.

“He’s in there,” the glum official told him. He then stood off to the side to give them some privacy.

Steven drew a deep breath, stepped closer, and peered into the cell.

Once, Wallace had been the pinnacle of glamour. Now, Steven could barely recognise him. His hair was a dull tangle of split-end; his skin pallid, oily and blemished; his eyes bloodshot, the skin around them both wrinkled and dark, puffy. He was even slouching. But when he saw Steven, he stood up straight and walked to the bars.

“Stevie,” he whispered. His teeth were yellow.

Steven found his manners failing him. He couldn’t find himself thinking Wallace worthy of them. “Why did you do it?” he demanded.

Wallace looked taken aback. “No niceties?”

“You’re the reason my best friend is dead,” Steven replied. He hadn’t meant to let his anger into his voice, but he couldn’t contain it, to the point his voice shook along with his fists. “You’re the reason Red will never know his parents. Why would I ever be nice to you?”

Wallace smiled sadly. “I thought you’d always love me.”

“Fuck off!” Steven shouted. “I said that when I thought you were someone else entirely!”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Wallace said. Maybe if he hadn’t sounded so hollow, Steven would’ve given him the benefit of the doubt.

“You did,” Steven growled. “You could’ve _died_.”

“He had Winona, Steven!” Wallace cried. “What was I supposed to do? Let him kill my sister too?”

Steven faltered.

“She was pregnant, you know,” Wallace added quietly. “I have a niece now. Lisia. She’ll be four next week, and I’ll never get to meet her.”

For a moment, Steven felt sympathy for Wallace. Yet… “You wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t betrayed Cynthia and Crimson, and _then_ killed those muggles when you tried to escape.”

“They were going to kill me,” Wallace whispered. “I had to do something.”

How much did Wallace thing his life was worth? Steven couldn’t ask the question. The answer was already there in the body count.

“I’m sorry Stevie,” Wallace sobbed. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting my family, and _you_ … and he promised me he wouldn’t kill Cynthia. Just the child. I thought it’d be one dead, six spared, Stevie, I swear!” He gripped the bars tightly, leaning through them as much as he could imagine. “Please, Stevie, please forgive me.”

Steven felt sick. “Why don’t you beg Red for forgiveness?”

Wallace’s hands fell slowly from the bars. He collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. “Please Stevie,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Steven looked away. “I don’t want to hear that.”

“I know you hate me,” Wallace murmured. “I know you’ll never forgive me. I only hoped…”

“I’ll never forgive you. I’ll never forgive any Rocket, but especially not you.”

“They weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be,” Wallace said, slightly louder, as he lifted his head. “They would have made the world better for people like you, my dearest.”

For a moment, Steven was so caught up in Team Rocket’s pureblood supremacist ideologies to realise that by ‘people like you’ Wallace meant ‘werewolves’. As though Team Rocket would ever have anything positive to say about a muggle-born werewolf. As though they legitimately had concerns about werewolves beyond placating a few to join their side with empty promises.

Why would Wallace believe they meant it? Unless it was what he _wanted_ to believe…

Steven fixed Wallace with a steady, searching look as he asked, “Did you actually forget that I’m muggle-born or do you simply think it’s unimportant?”

“Of course it’s unimportant,” Wallace replied. He frowned. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to think?”

Unbelievable. “I don’t care what you think any more.”

 _That_ made Wallace upset again. “No but Stevie —”

“You’re not allowed to call me that any more.”

Wallace repeated with emphasis, “ _Stevie_ , don’t you understand?! I didn’t have a choice! I didn’t want it to end up like this!”

“You had a lot of choices,” Steven replied. “You blinded yourself.”

“Stevie! Please! You have to understand!” Wallace cried.

“I never understood you. I doubt I ever will.”

Wallace gave a choked sob.

With nothing more to say, Steven turned and walked away. He didn’t look back no matter how loudly Wallace screamed his name.

When he arrived home, Steven found Alder hovering nervously around the kitchen.

“Hi,” he said, breathily, staring at Steven like he was looking for something. “Um. I thought you might get a headache, so —” He opened a drawer and pulled out a box of hot chocolate mix. “Want some?”

“Yes please,” Steven replied.

It took Alder only a minute, and then they were leaning on opposite sides of the kitchen island with mugs of hot chocolate, not looking at one another.

“Did you know that Winona was pregnant?” Steven asked.

Alder glanced at him. “No. Wait. When?”

“When Wallace betrayed them,” Steven replied. He explained, “Wallace said Giovanni had her, and so he was doing it to save Winona and her baby.”

Alder scoffed. “Then why did I see Winona in Nimbasa the day before? For coffee? Unless he’s trying to suggest _Winona_ was in on it, and I doubt _that_ ,” He muttered, “She didn’t _look_ pregnant…”

“I don’t doubt that she was,” Steven said. “I didn’t think she’d been kidnapped though, but… but he said…” Steven took a long sip of hot chocolate before he finished, “He said he made a deal with Giovanni. Red’s life in exchange for Winona, and her baby, and he said Giovanni promised he wouldn’t kill Cynthia.”

“Wallace is a fucking idiot if he actually believed that would work,” Alder growled.

“He clearly did.”

Alder exhaled sharply.

“He also said Team Rocket wasn’t that bad,” Steven said. “And tried to say he was doing it for me.”

“What?!” Alder gasped. “Fucking hell! Stevie, you’d better not be thinking —”

“All I think is that he’s looking for excuses to cover up the fact he was saving himself,” Steven interrupted. “I hate him, Aldie. I never thought it was possible to hate someone this much, especially not Wallace, but I despise him even more after talking to him.”

Alder faltered. “I… I probably shouldn’t say ‘good’, huh…?”

Steven shrugged. “I wanted closure. I got it. Even if that closure is hating him even more, it’s better than being confused.”

“Aw, Stevie, sometimes you’re so weird,” Alder sighed. “What was there to be confused about?”

Steven’s heart started to race, because he knew, both emotionally and rationally, that this was the moment to tell Alder how he truly felt.

“Myself,” Steven replied slowly. “And my capacity to love. I failed to notice Wallace had changed, I thought. But he hadn’t really changed. I’d misunderstood him, and he’d misunderstood me.”

“Not just you, from the sounds of things,” Alder said. “All muggle-borns and all werewolves. Especially everybody who’s both.”

Steven gave him a slight smile. “It started to matter a lot to me recently, with Red busy, because we’ve had more time to think. And feel.” He reached across the island for Alder’s hand. “I’ve been falling in love with you quite regularly these past few years, Aldie.”

“Stevie,” Alder gasped. “St-Stevie, are you serious…?”

“I wouldn’t joke about this,” Steven replied.

“But, what about Red?” Alder asked. “What — what’ll we say? And what if it goes badly? I mean, it won’t, but if it _does_ …?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ll never leave him,” Steven said. “Plus, not to alarm or proposition you, but I did hear Red telling Delia’s husband that we’re married.”

“So did I, but I thought he was trying to piss the bastard off,” Alder mumbled.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Steven said. “I’m not expecting anything. I only wanted to tell you.”

It was a lie; he had totally expected Alder to immediately start kissing him. But he loved Alder even more for worrying about Red first.

“No, no, no!” Alder protested. “Stevie, I’ve loved you since _Sixth Year_. I’m just surprised. I’m really surprised. And I don’t wanna risk upsetting Red, but he’s not gonna be, is he? I’ll never leave him either. And I don’t really intend on losing you once I get you, just so you know.”

Steven squeezed his hand. “You’ve already had me for a while now.”

Alder placed his other hand on top of Steven’s, and grinned at them goofily.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” Steven asked.

“Whoa, Stevie, too soon,” Alder said. “We haven’t even been on a date yet, and I’ve got a kid, y’know.”

Steven rolled his eyes fondly. “Shut up, Aldie.”

Alder grinned. He leant across the counter kissed him softly. It felt exceptionally warm, better than a Patronus Charm, and better for post-Azkaban recovery than chocolate.

“I’ll be expecting that daily from now on,” Steven warned him.

Alder hummed thoughtfully. “Well, maybe I could spoil you with twice.” He kissed him again. “Or three times.” Steven leant to kiss him again, but Alder pulled back. “ _Maybe_.”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” Steven replied.

The door burst open. Steven quickly turned towards the door, but didn’t pull his hand away from Alder’s. Red came running in, dragging Green.

“Stevie!” he shouted. “Stevie, Green never saw Metagross! Can Green see Metagross?!”

“Of course,” Steven said. He pulled his hand from between Alder’s. “I’ll go get it.” He walked around Red, pausing briefly to ruffle his hair, before heading to his room. Metagross’ PokéBall was sitting by his bed, which, in the middle of a post-kiss haze, Steven thought had to be big enough for him _and_ Alder to sleep in. And if not, Alder certainly looked comfortable to sleep on.

For a moment, Steven lingered in the hallway, watching Alder talk to Red and Green about their day as he made them hot chocolate. He watched Red swinging his legs excitedly as he talked about Dotty the oddish using Sleep Spore on Ash, Alder fighting back a laugh, and thought his life had recovered spectacularly from total tragedy.

*

When Red received his Hogwarts letter in mid-July (exactly fifteen days before his eleventh birthday, as he reminded them via Green), he looked at the envelope with a frown.

“I don’t wanna go any more,” he suddenly said.

Steven immediately looked over at Alder in alarm.

“Uh, okay, why not?” Alder asked slowly.

“I wanna be a Pokémon Master with Ash.”

“But last week you were excited about going,” Alder said. “Remember? You kept asking me about —”

Red threw the letter in his face. “Maybe _you_ should go!”

He ran to the back door, wrenched it open, and slammed it behind him.

“I think Green Oak has been teaching him melodrama again,” Steven said.

Alder stared at the letter in his hands with a frown, clearly not in the mood for jokes.

“He’s probably just nervous,” Steven told him. He tried to wrap an arm around Alder’s shoulders (as he had many times in the past six years), but his arm was too short, so he ended up just draping it across Alder’s ridiculously broad shoulders. “It’s a boarding school. Red’s never liked being away from home for long. And it probably doesn’t help that Ash is leaving on a Trainer journey soon and we won’t let Red.”

“But Hogwarts was always the exception,” Alder said softly.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Steven said. He kissed Alder reassuringly on the temple before pulling away and following Red.

Over the past few years, they’d developed something of a system. Alder was the fun one, Steven was the serious one, and Red would approach them based on what reaction he wanted. Likewise, when approaching Red about his problems (as he tended to bottle them up), they tried to guess what he would need and react accordingly. And when Red ran away lately, he ran to the beach. Specifically because Green couldn’t swim.

Though Oak hadn’t been entirely wrong in his prediction that Green and Red would be good for each other, for the past few months Steven had been inclined to resent ever letting them meet. It was all he could do to restrain Alder after the first time Green made Red cry. They hadn’t figured out why, but suddenly, Green was acting less like an affectionate (if possessive) best friend and more like an enemy.

Steven was quite sure it was jealousy. Red was, after all, a widely celebrated and adored person in the magical world. Though Red found this fact baffling, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that Green, who always turned everything into a competition for attention, would find it threatening — especially with them only weeks away from their first term at Hogwarts.

Steven found Red hunched over a rock pool, talking in moody animalistic clicks to a krabby. He mentally filed it away as yet another example in the on-going ‘our godson is totally a kaijuugomouth no matter how much you want to deny it Aldie’ debate before softly calling Red’s name.

Red glanced over at him with a sulky scowl before turning back to the krabby. Steven waited until the krabby scurried away before speaking again.

“You don’t have to go,” he said. “You seemed excited to go before, so we’re just surprised.”

Red hesitated for a bit, before quietly saying, “Green said we can’t be friends when we go to Hogwarts. So if I don’t go, he’ll still be my friend.”

“Is that it,” Steven sighed. “Red, I think Green’s just a bit confused right now. I don’t think he means that.”

“Then why would he say it.”

Steven shook his head. “People often say strange and hurtful things when they’re hurt themselves.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Red cried. “I didn’t do anything wrong this time!”

“So it’s Green’s problem, and you need to let him figure it out,” Steven replied. “Do what you think is right, Red. But don’t sacrifice things to try and make other people happy if you’re not even sure of what they want.”

“People’re gonna treat me weird,” Red complained. “They always treat me weird in Diagon Alley. What if people only like me because I accidentally killed someone?”

“There will be people like that,” Steven admitted. “But I think you’ll find the novelty will wear off, and you’ll find people who like you for who you really are. Not what tragedies and accidents you were involved in.”

Red raised his eyebrows. “Even if I’m a Hufflepuff?”

“Well, if you ask Alder, Hufflepuffs are the most popular kids at Hogwarts,” Steven replied. “Of course, I didn’t pay attention to such things…”

“ _Maybe_ I’ll go then,” Red said. “Can I wear a Band-Aid over my scar?”

“I think that people will find the Band-Aid curious and figure it out anyway. Plus, it would get unhygienic very quickly.”

Red grumbled and patted his fringe flat over his forehead.

“Alder’s quite worried,” Steven told him. “I do think he’ll be disappointed if you decide not to go to Hogwarts, but if you explain it to him, he’ll understand.”

Red nodded slowly, and that was the only reply he gave.

Steven was certain Red would end up going to Hogwarts for at least a year. Despite all his hopes, Red had never become particularly interested in school, and they’d talked up Hogwarts so much it had to sound like a more appealing option by now. Especially since they’d made it clear that leaving home to walk around the prefecture at age 10 was utterly ridiculous, and 11 would be no better, regardless of what Ash was doing. Alder, as always, was less convinced to the point of groaning about how they had ‘totally pressured’ Red into feeling like he had to go.

Apparently the past eleven years were not enough to convince Alder of how utterly stubborn Red was.

Red left it until his birthday to let them know his decision in the most casual way possible. Alder gave him an UltraBall, containing the snorlax he’d spent _two months_ looking for in secret while Red was at Ash or Green’s, and Red asked, “Do PokéBalls work okay at Hogwarts?”

“Wait, you mean —” Alder gasped.

“Yes, they’re fine,” Steven sighed. “Check what it is.”

The snorlax yawned at it appeared, studied Red, leant closer and almost crushed him with its stomach as it sniffed him (which Red found hilarious apparently) before hugging him tightly.

Red spoke to the snorlax in grunts _very much_ like the ones the snorlax replied in before snorlax made much of a noise. Steven looked at Alder pointedly.

“He’s bonding well with it,” Alder remarked.

Steven snorted.

The snorlax set Red down. Red held onto its paw. “We’ve decided I’m gonna call him Snor.”

Red made sure to walk around Pallet with Snor, just to show him off. While he was out, Alder mumbled, “Seriously? He’s changed his mind again just like that?”

“I think he means it this time,” Steven replied.

Red proved his intent well enough when they went to Diagon Alley to get his books. Steven was too sick from the full moon to go, but Red showed off his moltres feather core holly wand when he and Alder came home, complete with running around in his robes to ‘get used to them’.

“They said the grey parts’ll change colour to whatever House I get sorted into,” Red said, twirling around in them. “Which House is worst?”

“Ravenclaw,” Alder replied in the same moment Steven replied “They’re all fine.”

Red froze. “Wait, what’s bad about Ravenclaw?”

“I’m wondering the same thing,” Steven said, raising his eyebrows at Alder.

Alder sighed theatrically, clutching his heart. “They almost took Stevie away from me.”

Red pulled a face. “Gross.”

“Now _Red_ , our love is beautiful,” Steven said, beckoning Alder over to him. “Love is the most important thing in the world, and I’m quite sure Professor Oak will take advantage of his headmaster position to remind you of this fact daily.”

Alder sat on the arm of Steven’s chair and wrapped an arm around him, gazing at him with exaggerated adoration.

Red picked up his bag of schoolbooks. “Homework is better than this.”

“You don’t have any yet,” Steven pointed out.

“I’ll make it up! It’s still better!”

Though Red was obviously joking about making up his own homework, it wasn’t unusual from that day on to see him lying on Snor’s stomach in the backyard, reading a spell book. Steven found it quite cute. Alder found it nerdy.

“He’s gonna be studying there soon anyway,” he complained. “Stevie, I wanna hang out with him more! We’ve gotta compensate for all the _months_ he’s gonna be away!”

“I bet you anything he’ll be writing you letters daily for the first fortnight,” Steven replied. “And if you tell him how to break in to Hogsmeade, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Where’s the fun if he doesn’t figure it out for himself?” Alder asked innocently.

Luckily, the day of Red’s departure was during a waxing crescent, so Steven could go with him and Alder to Platform 9¾. Red was adamant about wearing the official Pokémon League Expo hat he’d won last year through a joint effort with Ash, no matter what Steven said about how Trainer-style clothes would only make him stand out more on the train. Sure enough, after they reached the platform, people would not stop staring at Red. In response, Red held his head high and kept dragging his trunk along the platform, pretending not to notice it.

Steven was quite proud of him for taking the high ground.

“You gonna be okay?” Alder asked.

Red nodded.

Alder pulled him into a tight hug. “Of course you are. You’re tough. And I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

Red hugged him back just as tightly for a minuted before pulling away and throwing himself at Steven. Steven hugged him as best he could.

“Just be yourself, and don’t bother trying to be polite to people who don’t let you,” Steven whispered.

Red nodded as he pulled away.

“I have a going away present for you,” Steven said. He pulled the PokéBall from inside his jacket and held it out to Red. “My father helped me get this.”

Because Red was Red, he immediately opened the PokéBall. The aerodactyl burst from it with a loud roar, soaring a loop around the platform before landing on Red’s shoulder.

“It was newly revived from a fossil, so it’s still small,” Steven explained. He knew Red was barely listening. “Almost like a baby. It will get to be about two metres tall in a few years.”

“Thank you,” Red breathed.

Without returning the aerodactyl to its Ball, Red hugged them both again one more time each before boarding the train. As they watched it go, Steven reached down and took Alder’s hand.

“He’ll be fine,” Alder said quietly.

Steven nodded.

True to Steven’s prediction, Red wrote to them every day at first. They weren’t exactly long letters, or even structured enough to be called ‘letters’ in the traditional sense of the word. Sometimes they were about Aero and Snor, sometimes about the castle, sometimes about classes, but the most interesting ones were about the people. Alder wanted to get the one about Volkner (a single line declaring ‘ _Alder’s right, Volkner sucks_ ’) framed. He also got pretty smug about Red becoming friends with Gold and Black Weasley, saying “I told you he should’ve been home schooled with them.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t like them the same way if he’d grown up with them,” Steven insisted.

“Let it go, Stevie, don’t be a sore loser.”

They had a moment of great concern when Red wrote that the Sorting Hat had tried to talk him into Hufflepuff, but he’d wanted to be in the same House as his parents and godparents, so it let him.

“How did we accidentally raise a Hufflepuff,” Alder groaned.

“Hufflepuffs aren’t a bad thing,” Steven said, frowning. “…right?”

What the Sorting Hat meant became quite apparent in Red’s fixation with one of his dorm mates. He’d told them early on who his dorm mates were — Gold and Black, Wally Mizuhara and someone who would only allow himself to be called by the letter N.

‘ _He gets angry when people use his family name so I don’t think I should even write it_ ,’ Red told them. ‘ _I think his dad might be more evil than Ash’s_.’

Red mentioned N’s behaviour at first probably because it was so eccentric The accounts told of a strange boy who always wore a skirt (‘ _but Gold says that’s not too weird_ ’) and kept shouting at Red for oppressing pokémon. They offered Red the necessary reassurance that no, Trainers were not evil, and if your pokémon wanted to escape, they both would and could. Steven added a comment about how Red, with his ability to speak to pokémon, would do well to inform N of what they said.

‘ _N said it doesn’t matter that I can speak to pokémon because he can understand the inner voices in pokémon’s hearts_ ,’ Red replied.

And from that point, Red’s tone became less amused confusion and more concerned. He wrote less often, and included more mentions of things like ‘ _I don’t think N actually sleeps_ ’, ‘ _N says he has to read the entire library, is that even possible_ ’, ‘ _N keeps skipping meals_ ’. And Red wouldn’t accept ‘ _he’s just weird_ ’ or any other such dismissal as an answer. His focus seemed to be less ‘what the hell is wrong with this person’ and more ‘what can I do to help this person’. Steven had been consistently told that was what being a Hufflepuff was about, but he’d never seen it clearly in practice. It culminated in Red writing to say he was very seriously considering staying at Hogwarts for winter break, as he didn’t want to leave N alone there.

“But I want to see him,” Alder whined.

“So do I,” Steven said. “It can’t be healthy to fixate on one person like this, can it?”

Alder groaned. “Don’t say it like that! Makes it sound like he’s _in love_!”

All of a sudden, Steven felt faint. “No… no, he wouldn’t…”

Things looked very grim when Red did decide to stay at Hogwarts for winter break. Steven had never been particularly invested in Christmas like Alder, but he _enjoyed_ excuses to use his father’s money to buy Red expensive presents. The whole process wasn’t quite the same when he wasn’t there to see Red’s face. Plus when Steven broke the news to Ash (who had come all the way back from Saffron to spend Christmas in Pallet), he started crying.

But really, all sulking aside, it was incredible that Red was willing to try so hard to help someone who wasn’t even his friend. He’d grown into an incredible person. When Red wrote mentioning receiving an anonymous gift containing his father’s old Invisibility Cloak, Steven thought how appropriate it was that Red was receiving his father’s lost legacy while staying at Hogwarts in a replica of Crimson’s brand of selflessness.

Alder mostly got angry about whoever had kept the Cloak away from Red for so long, before mournfully speculating how differently the night of their deaths would have gone if Crimson had had his Cloak.

“He never let us use it for fun, but dammit, he’d use it to protect them,” Alder insisted.

“At least Red has it now,” Steven soothed. “Wondering ‘what if’ won’t do anything except upset us, and potentially ruin the Cloak for him.”

“You’re right,” Alder said. “He’s gotta have fun with it. His nerd father never did.”

Alder wrote to Red to this extent, including a strong hint about the statue that led to the cellar under Honeyduke’s Sweets Shop. Red replied with a box of chocolate.

And then, for the second half of the school year, they barely heard from Red.

“No news is good news, isn’t that what muggles say?” Alder said.

“Yeah, but they don’t mean it,” Steven muttered.

Red said was busy with schoolwork, he wanted to do well on exams, the usual. Steven tried not to think about it. If Red was busy enjoying himself, it would only figure that he couldn’t have time to write to them.

At the end of the school year, they collected Red from Platform 9¾. Red dragged Gold and Black over to meet them. The gangly green-haired one in a skirt he’d gotten off the train with turned and immediately walked away without saying goodbye — clearly, that was N.

“This is Gold and this is Black,” Red said, gesturing to each in turn. They didn’t look as much like brothers as Steven had thought they would. Different hair and eye colours aside, Black was short and pale where Gold was average and tan. “These’re my godparents, Alder and Steven.”

“Nice to meet you,” Black said politely. It was very clearly a force of habit, as he didn’t look at them. He kept staring after N.

“You too,” Steven said anyway. “We used to work with your mother and uncle.”

“And Gold’s father,” Alder added, because he could actually remember the complicated Weasley family tree.

“Oh, cool,” Gold said. He roughly jerked the hood of Black’s jacket and whispered, “Dude, chill.”

“Sorry, it’s just —” Black whispered back, but cut himself off.

Apparently undisturbed by this behaviour, Red asked, “Can they stay over sometime in the summer?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alder replied immediately.

“That’ll be so cool!” Gold cried, more engaged now that Black was too. “We’ve never been to Kanto and Red keeps going _on_ and _on_ and _on_ about your pokémon.”

“We’ll have to organise it with your mother sometime,” Steven said.

“See you later,” Red said.

Gold hugged him before they went, and that was pretty reassuring to see after Red’s crisis with Green Oak.

On their way out of the train station, they passed N again. This time, Red confirmed for them with a mumble, “That’s N.” but gave no other indication of recognising or knowing him. He was accompanied by two adults, who looked quite oddly like postmodern knights. Steven followed Red’s example. Alder froze for a second, staring at N with wide eyes.

“Aldie?” Steven called.

Alder shook his head and caught up to them in two easy strides. “He looks familiar.”

Red frowned. “What?”

“Like somebody that I used to know,” Alder said. “Don’t worry about it, it couldn’t be.”

When they were in bed that night, Steven got Alder to admit: “He looks like this asshole I met in Unova when I was Champion. Ghetsis Harmonia.”

“If he was horrible enough to make you react like that, I don’t think you should downplay this to me,” Steven replied.

“He almost killed Volcarona,” Alder said. “He… was a pretty vicious and ruthless Trainer. All he cared about was money and power.”

“That’s not the kind of person you’d expect to have a child who talks about pokémon rights so much,” Steven said.

Alder shook his head.

But it was. Red answered Alder’s casual inquiry about N’s name with, “It’s short for Natural Harmonia Gropius. I’d go with just a letter too if that was my name.”

“Yeah,” Alder said. “Yeah, that’s…” He looked at Steven significantly. “That’s a very sadistic name.”

But Alder didn’t want to influence Red’s opinion of N with horror stories about his father, so he didn’t say anything. Steven knew intellectually that was the right thing to do, but he had a hunch that it was the opposite. He didn’t say anything either, though. Red had friends who treated him better than Green ever had. They got to see the extent of it during the fortnight they stayed over the summer, with Black helping Red get the motivation to do his homework (and not helping too much by giving him answers like Steven and Alder both always did), and Gold keeping both from their tendencies towards melancholy and anxieties without being a complete jerk about it. It reminded Steven eerily of how he, Alder, Cynthia and Wallace had been during their own years at Hogwarts. Coupled with how much Red looked like Cynthia at that age ( _especially_ when he was being sarcastic), Steven couldn’t help developing a slight fear of history repeating itself.

But Red, Gold and Black only grew closer over the years, and N increasingly friendly. Especially after Red found Pika. Because Pika hated PokéBalls, Red never put him in one, which meant Pika was constantly wreaking havoc. In turn, this gave any misinformed brats all the evidence they could ever need that not only did Red understand and supply his pokémon with what they wanted and needed, but he loved them, and maybe their ideologies were built on lies.

(Needless to say, Steven’s first meeting with N had not gone well. Red had introduced him as “the former Champion of Hoenn” and N had called him a fascist.)

In the weeks before they started their fourth year, Red reported that N wanted to talk to Steven about Trainers and what being the Champion actually means.

“Why doesn’t he wanna talk to me?” Alder asked sulkily. “I was Champion for way longer than Stevie!”

“Yes, I became so bored I quit,” Steven agreed.

“I didn’t tell him Alder used to be Champion too, after what he said to you,” Red explained. “He’s kind of an asshole.”

“You shouldn’t be friends with assholes,” Alder insisted. “You should be friends with _Hufflepuff girls_.”

Steven elbowed him in the gut.

“I’m friends with Misty Waterflower,” Red said, frowning. “I don’t see why that matters though?”

Steven covered Alder’s mouth. “It doesn’t. He’s being stupid. Again. I’ll talk to N.”

“He’s gonna be staying in the Leaky Cauldron next week,” Red said. “Can we go too?”

Alder pulled Steven’s hand away to ask, “Is his father going to be there?”

Red frowned. “He says he doesn’t have one. Just someone he’s meant to _say_ is his father but isn't.”

“Red, no offence to your friend, but he sounds completely delusional,” Alder said.

Red nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

“We’ll go,” Steven said. “Are Black and Gold going too?”

Red shrugged.

N was much more polite during their second meeting, not that that was a real accomplishment. He watched Steven with suspicious eyes from the moment they walked in to the pub.

“Little brat,” Alder muttered under his breath. Despite N’s height, Steven had to agree.

“Hi N,” Red said, holding Pika in his arms. “How’s the cult?”

“It’s _not_ a cult,” N sighed.

“I’d hope not,” Steven said. “Red, don’t get involved with cults.”

“What if it was a stone cult?”

“Even then, don’t.”

N didn’t even crack a smile at Red’s adorable attempts at sass. It was utterly unnerving and a little irritating.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” N said to Steven. He didn’t even glance at Alder, and that made Steven all the more irritated. “It has been suggested to me that perhaps things are not as I understand them, though I hardly see how that could be.”

“People have been known to lie,” Steven replied.

Alder decided that was the moment to step in. “Your father’s Ghetsis Harmonia, right?”

N’s eye twitched. “More or less.”

“I knew him when he was a Trainer,” Alder said. “He was a liar who’d abuse his pokémon.”

N’s face quickly flashed from horror to fear to anger. “Can I touch you?” he asked Alder.

“What,” Steven growled.

“He’s an empath,” Red quickly explained, grabbing N’s arm. Pika growled and climbed up to his shoulder. “When he touches people and pokémon, he can feel their emotions and sometimes see their memories.”

“Why wouldn’t you have already told them that?” N muttered irritably.

Red ignored him. “He says he sees the future too.”

“I do,” N insisted.

“I guess it’s okay then…?” Alder said hesitantly. “Aw, c’mon Stevie, don’t look at me like that.”

Steven didn’t know what Alder meant by ‘like that’, but whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t enough to deter N, as he pulled his arm away from Red and placed his hand on Alder’s arm.

“Think about Ghetsis,” he demanded, closing his eyes.

“Uh, okay,” Alder said, scrunching up his face. “I mean, I don’t like to, but…”

N pulled his hand away like he’d been burned. His eyes flew open, and he stumbled backwards. “Red,” he whispered.

Red held out his arm. N grabbed it, relaxing at the touch.

“That’s super gay,” Alder muttered under his breath.

Steven hoped it wasn’t.

“Thank you,” N said, not looking at either of them. This time, it was because his eyes were glued to the floor. “I… I don’t think I’ll need to ask anything else…”

And with that, he released Red and ran away. Red didn’t follow.

“Thanks,” Red said.

“I have no idea what just happened, but you’re welcome,” Alder said.

Red shrugged. “I think he realised his cult’s a cult.”

“What cult,” Steven said.

“Team Plasma,” Red replied.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Alder gasped. “The Pokémon Liberation idiots! Of course!”

Red nodded. “He’s their king.”

Steven scowled. “Red, you knowingly got involved with the leader of a cult and didn’t tell us?”

“I told you some of it,” Red defensively replied. “It wasn’t like it was life threatening. He just throws tantrums when people say he’s wrong, then gets over it.”

“Still, you should’ve told us,” Steven insisted. “We would’ve helped.”

“You _did_ ,” Red said. “Remember? You always answered my letters, and you agreed to meet him, and I bet when he’s done sulking this time he’ll admit Team Plasma sucks and then they won’t use him any more.”

“We’ll see,” Steven said.

Alder clapped Red on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Stevie’s just jealous that I let someone else touch him.”

Red pulled a face. “Gross, Steven, he’s _my_ age.”

“That’s not it!” Steven cried, cheeks burning.

They encountered N again the next day. He walked into the bar carrying a zorua, walked up to their table, and sat down without being invited.

“I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday,” he said, setting the zorua on the table. “I was… not expecting that, as much as I hate Ghetsis.”

“Hey, no problem,” Alder said kindly. “Did he raise you?”

“No, the goddesses did,” N replied, like that wasn’t weird.

“Sisters,” Red clarified. “Basically.”

“But I can’t fathom why someone like that would want to liberate pokémon,” N said.

Red stared at him in disbelief.

“Perhaps he realised the errors of his way through experience,” N mused. “But why would someone who has truly repented not talk about it?”

“Or maybe he lied to you,” Steven suggested. “Maybe he was using you to trick people. Because someone who truly believes in a cause is more convincing than a liar.”

N frowned. “But then why would I be the Hero of Ideals?”

Alder choked on his drink. Without taking his eyes off N, Steven reached over and massaged his back.

“You were the Champion of the Hoenn region, weren’t you?” N asked Steven.

“Yes,” Steven replied. “You called me a fascist, remember?”

N’s frown deepened. “Isn’t that what a champion essentially is?”

Steven shook his head slowly. He was starting to pity N a lot. He was just so confused and helpless but trying so hard to appear like he was powerful and understood all. “It’s mostly making sure that the Pokémon League system in your region works effectively, through the maintenance of gyms and Pokémon Centres. There’s an element of ensuring the safety of pokémon and Trainers, from each other at times, but there honestly wasn’t much to do except paperwork for the former.”

“I was told I would have to become Champion to force the liberation of pokémon,” N said. “By making Trainers release their pokémon.”

“That would not be possible.”

N muttered something very quickly under his breath about the future he’d seen and deception.

“What you _should_ think about doing before committing to this cause is experiencing life as a Trainer,” Steven said. “I think you’ll find it’s not what you expect — don’t you agree, Aldie?”

“Absolutely, Stevie,” Alder said. “I thought it was gonna be easier to take care of the pokémon, and that people wouldn’t be as kind as they were. But it was great.”

“Do your pokémon agree?” N asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Red groaned. “I’ve talked to them about it a _lot_ , okay? Trust me.”

“I do,” N replied, not noticing Red’s surprised look. “Perhaps I should leave Hogwarts and spend the time as a Trainer, then…”

“No way,” Red said. “D’ya have any idea what Black’d do to me if he found out?”

“I can’t imagine Black would notice me with _Cheren_ around.”

“He would. He always does.”

At least Steven had that to kill his fears of Red dating N.

“Next summer then,” N decided. He stroked the zorua’s fur. “If you want to,” he said to it. “Tell me what you want.”

Maybe N wasn’t that bad.

Red’s Fourth Year turned out to be quite unusual because someone (“Not me,” Oak adamantly insisted) decided it was time to revive the Triwizard Tournament. On the days of events, guests were allowed to return to Hogwarts in order to view them.

“I don’t have any interest in watching a bunch of 17-year-olds risk their lives for sport, but it would be nice to visit, don’t you think?” Steven asked Alder.

“Yeah,” Alder agreed. “And hey, we could always sneak away and make out in the Shrieking Shack. For old time’s sake.”

“Yes, we could.”

Being on Hogwarts grounds again was bittersweet, for quite obvious reasons. Yet, Steven found himself focusing on the positives without any effort. It was nice to be back at the first place where he felt truly wanted, with the person who loved him most. Red snuck them in to the Gryffindor Dorms with Crimson’s old Invisibility Cloak (which the nerd had never used to its full potential, as Alder always said). They were exactly the same as Steven remembered them, just filled with different people.

And of course, the chair that Red immediately gravitated to as his ‘favourite’ was the same one Cynthia did.

Beyond being the perfect excuse to legally visit Hogwarts, the Triwizard Tournament was uneventful. The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were interesting only in theory, Hogwarts’ Champion was a Hufflepuff named Tracey Sketchit who managed to simultaneously be incredibly bland and creepy, and by Red’s accounts, the only thing of value to come from it was the Yule Ball, “Cos N punched Black in the face after Black called him a slut then they got engaged.”

“They’re way too young for that!” Alder cried, surprisingly. “Hell, I’m not even engaged to Stevie!”

Red shrugged. “They wanna, so why not?”

Steven didn’t bother asking who Red went with. If it mattered, he’d tell them. Especially with Alder asking at random intervals during the Third Task. Red didn’t say, though, except that it ‘wasn’t a real date or anything, that’d be stupid.’

Apparently to highlight this fact, after the task finished, Red called out to a brunette girl named White who looked remarkably like Black. A second, shorter brunette girl followed as White walked over to him.

“What’s up?” White asked.

Red gestured at Alder. “He won’t stop asking about my Yule Ball date.”

“Oh, that’s me,” White said. She pulled the other girl forward with a smirk. “And this is my long-term girlfriend, Blue.”

“Hiya,” Blue giggled. “I let Red borrow White for a pity-date so White could let Black borrow me.”

“They had some stupid rule,” Red added.

“Oh,” Alder said, sighing. “I thought it was gonna be Green.”

“Maybe next time,” Blue said airily. “Green’s in my House, and I swear, he never shuts the hell up about your godson.”

For the first time in his entire life, Red’s face became the same colour as his namesake.

“We’ve gotta go now,” he said, as calm as ever. “Come _on_.”

Pitying him, Steven changed the topic as they walked away by saying, “It was nice of you to do that for them.”

Red shrugged, mumbling, “It was a stupid rule. They said it was tradition, but Gold says it was so the Durmstrang Headmistress wouldn’t freak out and cancel the entire tournament.”

“At least the tournament was a fun excuse to come back here,” Alder said. “They should really have days for parents and godparents to visit.”

As soon as they arrived back home, Alder turned to Steven and asked in a very serious tone, “Should we get married?”

“Not to replicate two very dramatic fourteen-year-olds,” Steven replied.

“No, it just, didn’t really occur to me!” Alder insisted. “I dunno why, it always used to, but… I dunno, it just…”

“We’re already married in every way except legally,” Steven pointed out.

“I guess so,” Alder said. “But, like… if you wanna be official, I wouldn’t mind. It’d be fun, probably. And you’d get to wear a rock on your finger.”

“I can do that anyway.”

In truth, Steven probably would have been more on board with the idea if he hadn’t agreed to marry Wallace so quickly, and so _young_. They hadn’t even finished school, and he’d agreed on what was essentially a whim, regardless of how many years they’d known each other and then dated. But Cynthia and Crimson had done the same thing, hadn’t they? There’d been a war on and everybody was afraid of not living enough. But now, there weren’t any such concerns.

“I’ll think about it,” Steven concluded. “You should too, when you’re less shocked about Red’s friends.”

“Fourteen,” Alder muttered, shaking his head. “Never thought Black the nerdy little goody-goody would agree to something like _that_.”

Steven though about it for a week with no real conclusion beyond ‘it could be nice’. He brought it up again solely to make sure Alder knew he was still considering it.

“Same,” Alder replied. “It’s not like either decision is bad, y’know? Maybe we should flip a coin…”

“If we’re _that_ indecisive about it, will it really be worth all the effort of planning?” Steven asked.

“Probably not. But _not_ doing it makes it sound like we don’t love each other enough.”

“But we know that’s not true,” Steven said. “And everybody who matters to us does too.”

Alder nodded thoughtfully.

“And if we happen to change our minds, then we’ll do it,” Steven added.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Alder agreed. He took Steven’s hand and, in a serious tone, asked, “Stevie, if we ever get bored enough, will you marry me?”

“Oh, Aldie, yes, a thousand times yes,” Steven replied, as nonchalant as he could manage when Alder was grinning at him like that.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” Alder said, pulling Steven against him. “And that’s no joke.”

“It’s a lie, though,” Steven said. “Because _you’ve_ made _me_ the happiest man in the world.”

“Well, we can argue about _that_ forever, so…” Alder leant down and kissed him.

Two months later, in the middle of summer, Gold regaled them with the story of the moment Black realised he’d gotten engaged at fourteen ‘like a redneck’.

“He pulled the most _ridiculous_ face, like —” He dropped his jaw theatrically, eyes bugging. “But then he agreed to it anyway, I dunno, kids these days.”

“ _I_ think it’s cute,” Red said.

“Yeah, totally, but I live with them, it’s gotten old,” Gold replied.

After the last week of July and all of August with Black and N in his house, Steven definitely understood Gold’s point. Though of course Steven had never found the concept of fourteen year olds getting engaged even slightly endearing. Black and N fought a lot, pretentious intellectual debates of about as much value as you’d expect from just-turned-fifteen-year-olds, and spent the whole time being as obnoxiously public with their affection as you’d expect from just-turned-fifteen-year-olds.

Frankly, Steven had started to feel unsafe in his own home. And he was a werewolf. Surely that would make him far more intimidating than shameless teenagers.

Yet it did not.

For the first time, Steven was glad when Red returned to Hogwarts, because it meant his friends did too. Oh, they were great kids and all, but Steven didn’t ever want to figure out how to deal with teenagers and their hormones.

“Just ignore it,” Alder recommended.

Ignoring it was very difficult when Red kept contacting Alder on Gold’s behalf for advice on seducing ‘scary, hot-and-cold Ravenclaws’. And worse when, during winter break, Green Oak wouldn’t stop suddenly barging in like he didn’t have a tumultuous relationship with their godson and making eyes at him.

At least Red had the good taste to be irritated with Green for it.

“Yeah, that’s what you say now,” Alder chuckled.

“ _Don’t_ encourage this,” Steven said.

“Hey, if our godson’s happy, what do I care?”

He had a good point. A very broad point that was in no way something that could be applied to every imaginable eventuality given Red’s penchant for martyrdom, but a good point regardless. Green wasn’t doing anything _hurtful_ ; he was simply flirting very obviously and picking up poorly on Red’s signals.

Red, however, was happy to have Green back as a friend.

“Nobody else really gets pokémon,” he said.

Which was ironic, given N’s status as former king of a pokémon rights cult.

In the summer holidays between Red’s Fifth and Sixth years, Steven had a proud moment of watching Red’s first pokémon battle against another Trainer. It was a very simple one-on-one, Green’s eevee versus Pika, but it was thrilling because it was Red’s. Red was clearly an amateur, as was Green. But Green’s style and command of his pokémon wasn’t anywhere near Red’s natural level. Red would barely have to speak before Pika followed his commands. It wasn’t just that Pika trusted Red; Red trusted Pika equally. Even though Red lost, his talent shone through.

“After you graduate, you’re going to be an incredible Trainer,” Steven told him. “I’m sure you’ll take the region by storm.”

Red grinned at him.

“I bet you can catch up to Ash within like, a month,” Alder said. “Even if he’s got a, what, six year head start.”

Green didn’t butt in demanding attention too. Progress was progress, Steven thought, even if he would have expected a sixteen-year-old not to behave like a ten-year-old any longer.

Red became suddenly fixated with good grades during the winter break of his Sixth Year. He didn’t explain why, but he asked Steven to teach him how to study.

“It’s quite simple, you take notes then revise them,” Steven explained.

Red frowned. “Um… okay…”

Yet Red couldn’t manage it. He kept saying everything in their textbooks had to be relevant, or else why would the author write it? When Steven pointed out the idea was to determine what points were most important to aid his understanding, Red essentially repeated himself.

“Do I have to actually memorise textbooks like N?” Red groaned.

“Of course not, and N shouldn’t do that either,” Steven replied. “Memorisation doesn’t equal comprehension.”

“Can I do spells without memorising the incantation and wand movement?” Red asked.

“I guess not,” Steven conceded. “Without the wand movements, sometimes.”

Red groaned.

“If you don’t want to do this, why are you?” Steven asked. “You get quite good grades as it is.”

“I wanna try,” Red grumbled. “But it’s so _hard_.”

“They say nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Steven said, because he honestly didn’t know what else to say. “Is this because of your OWL results?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever…”

“If you’re not really motivated, I don’t think you’ll manage to do much,” Steven said. “It’s not bad that you’re not interested in most of your classes, especially when you’re so dedicated to your pokémon.”

“What about if I’m dedicated to making someone stop calling me stupid?” Red asked.

“You’re probably investing too much time in their opinion, which is already very clearly wrong,” Steven replied. “Is this about Green?”

At first Red shook his head, but then he sighed and nodded. “You’re not… you won’t tell anyone, will you? Not even Alder?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Steven replied.

Red drew in a deep breath and, for the first time since he was six, started ranting.

“He’s nice to me when we’re alone, or at least, as nice as Green can be, then he just suddenly hates me and I dunno what I did wrong! But I _want_ to hang around him, I _like_ him a _lot_ , and he looked after me at the Yule Ball after Blue spiked the punch! Then he said he loves me but then he doesn’t _act_ like it, so what’s _that_ mean? He can’t even act like my friend, he’s like my rival but I dunno what we’re competing for cos he won’t _tell me_! And he says I’m stupid and then he won’t stop hanging around me! Why does he follow me around if he doesn’t like me?! Why does he _say_ he does then act like he doesn't?! And why do I still wanna be with someone who treats me so badly so often?”

“You shouldn’t,” Steven replied quickly. “But emotions are rarely as sensible as we’d like.”

Red groaned.

“As for Green, well, he might be a genius, but he’s also stupid,” Steven said. “If he wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t be putting you in this position.”

“I feel even stupider than Gold,” Red mumbled. “And he hit on Giovanni’s secret son with _puns_ and _Disney songs_ until it actually _worked_.”

Steven felt faint. “Giovanni had a secret son?”

“Yeah, but he’s cool,” Red dismissed.

“Right,” Steven said, still reeling. “I — I would suggest not going to this much effort for Green. Never change who you are to impress someone, unless they’re an employer or someone you don’t intend to relax around or enjoy being with.”

Red nodded slowly. “But, what’m I supposed to do then?”

“Tell him honestly how you feel, and that you won’t put up with his behaviour.”

“But that’s embarrassing,” Red mumbled. “What if it’s all a trick?”

“Honestly? I don’t believe Green is capable of enough empathy to consider someone else’s feelings long enough to play such an elaborate, emotional trick,” Steven replied. “I don’t think you should date him unless he grows up significantly.”

“Yeah,” Red mumbled. “Probably.”

Naturally, Red got off the train at the end of the school year holding Green’s hand and declared that they were dating.

“I’m happy for you,” Steven said, as sincerely as he could manage.

But as Green didn’t show any evidence of doing anything disagreeable (or, indeed, anything that remotely upset Red), Steven couldn’t find any reason to genuinely doubt that Green had grown up.

“Face it, you’re never gonna think anyone’s good enough for Red,” Alder told him.

He had a point. And it wasn’t like Red was neglecting any of his old friends. In fact, Red kept talking about organising for them all to spend Christmas together, “Since it’ll be Seventh Year and that’s very final-sounding.”

“It’s a lovely idea,” Hahajo said when Red suggested it. “It’ll be one big, wonderful party.”

And so, sixteen years one month and twenty-five days after Cynthia and Crimson’s deaths, Steven found himself in the last place he’d imagined this route to take him; at the Weasley’s for Christmas, accompanied by his implied husband Alder, their godson and Green Oak, being welcomed as though they were all family. In a way, they all were; they were the people Red chose to love, and Steven was certain that Red’s love was the world’s most powerful force.

It didn’t matter whatever winding road Red took through life. Steven would always be waiting, Alder by his side, to help Red whenever he needed it.

*

In full honesty, Red Potter (who would have long switched to Steven or Alder’s family name if he didn’t know how important honouring Red’s dead parents was to his godparents) had planed the Christmas gathering to help encourage everybody to accept Green as ‘really not that bad’. He’d told Green as much. And Green was obviously very nervous.

“This is so unfair,” Green hissed. “You’ve got _two_ families with probably enough people for _three or four_ families for me to impress, and I’ve got _two people_ for you to impress. And you impressed them both when you were a baby by accidentally killing that guy!”

“I know,” Red replied. “Weird, right?”

He’d told Green repeatedly that he was fine, he’d impress Red’s family and friends enough just by being a good boyfriend, but Green wouldn’t believe anything without evidence. Which meant Red had to wait until Green found enough evidence, and be reassuringly present for Green to cling to in the mean time. Green always worked through his anxieties eventually.

From the moment they left Pallet for the Burrow, Green clung to Red in the most nonchalant way he could manage. Red was never one to protest handholding.

They quickly ditched Steven and Alder with the other proper adults, dodged around White and Blue (easy, when they only had eyes for each other), briefly exchanged niceties with Dia and his boyfriend and girlfriend (“He gets _both_?” Green whispered, scandalised. “How does _that_ work?” Red rolled his eyes and replied, “However he, Pearl and Platinum want it to, I guess?”) before heading up to Gold and Black’s room. Red supposed it was also N’s room now, and probably had been since Fifth Year, but N was basically a gatecrashing hobo.

Red knocked before entering almost immediately. N was in the middle of some attempt to figure out Christmas, Black simultaneously leaning against him and looking unimpressed. Across the room on Gold’s bed, Silver was glaring at N in disbelief while Gold braided his hair with tinsel.

“Hey,” Red called.

“Bro!” Gold cried. “About time!”

“Don’t shout in my ear,” Silver groaned.

“Oh, shit, sorry Silv! Lemme kiss it better —”

“Get your mouth _away_ from there!”

Pika jumped down from his shoulder and ran over to N’s zorua, shoving it over, before turning to Gold’s togepi and hugging it.

Black glanced over at Red and Green with raised eyebrows, rolling his eyes slightly. “N was just telling us how Jesus Christ was clearly invented by Americans to sell their media products.”

“Your timeline’s a few centuries off there,” Green remarked, grip on Red’s hand loosening.

“I meant what he’s _become_ ,” N huffed. “It’s all clearly too postmodern for you to comprehend.”

Green snorted, dropping Red’s hand entirely as he walked over to say, “Do you even know what postmodernism is?”

“Do _you_?” Silver interrupted.

Green flustered. “That’s — that’s not the point!” He sat on the ground near Black’s bed. “The point is, it’s not all capitalist, or American, otherwise we wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Maybe,” N mumbled. “But…”

“I think we should all sing Jingle Bells,” Gold said. “Or! Maybe we could recreate the Jingle Bell Rock dance from _Mean Girls_!”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Black said dryly.

As Red glanced around the room, he was struck with an overwhelming desire to have everything pause, so this one perfect moment of contentment would never end. But at the same time, he knew, they’d have moments exactly like this again in the future. After all, what was there to get in their way?

Red sat down with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I called this 'Smile' because I hope that's what it made you do. And that's about all I have to say except, thanks to all you Red Potter readers who've stuck around, giving me feedback and support, even during the long breaks between chapters. You all mean the world to me.


End file.
